Reason being? I was a slow reader. It took me over a week to get through one 300-page book. When the average book assignment turnaround was – oh – two days? That didn’t leave me a lot of time to catch up. That is, unless I wanted to devote whole days to digesting the books in bulk. I didn’t have that kind of time; I was too busy being a college student (i.e. partying).

The Great Gatsby showed up at least twice in my college “career”. The material didn’t interest me in the slightest. In summary: Blank-slate narrator has totally hetero fascination with his larger-than-life rich neighbor, who in turn has an interest in blank-slate’s second cousin. Grandeur, posturing and tragedy ensue. I’m not big on tragedies, and – aside from Hermann Hesse – I had no interest in non-sci-fi books pre-dating…uh…me.

When I learned that the flashy Australian director, Baz Lurhmann, was doing a version starring Leonardo DiCaprio as the title character, I took notice. Baz makes shiny movies, and I like shiny things. Moulin Rouge – to me – is still a wonderful, if flawed, musical masterpiece. His take on Gatsby seemed equally as glitzy. Granted both that and Moulin Rouge were tragedies at their core, but they were so on an epic scale. Almost Shakespearean in their gravitas. That I can get behind.

Early reviews poured in claiming that – while true to the source material – it was a flashy spectacle with very little heart. That didn’t dissuade me any. I saw it with friends this last Tuesday, and…

I dug the heck out of it. Sure, it was just as much a spectacle as was claimed. Granted, it probably had the emotional sincerity of a toaster oven. But, from what little I remember about the source material, so was the damn book. The story was supposed to be about the empty lives of the 1920s elite – all personified by a man (Gatsby) pretending to be something he was not. His motivations may have been pure of heart – “Wuv, twue wuv!” – but the role he chose to embody eventually consumed him. In that way, I found the whole affair – to coin a hipster adage – “meta”.

An odd thing happened, though.

I found myself relating way too closely to the narrator – Nick Carraway. His role in the book was mainly that of a cypher, a means for the audience to observe the events as they unfold. He has very little motivation himself. Even his surname states as much. Carraway…carried away, get it?  Tobey Maguire nailed this role, and succeeded in giving the blank-slate some much-needed (if pathetic) characterization. The focus of his attentions is on that of the eccentric Jay Gatsby and his struggles of the heart.

Like Carraway, I too am poorer than most of my friends, and oftentimes am swept away on adventures with their patronage. Some of my tastes may be sophisticated, but in the end my budget is too modest to experience them outright. If I had a “Gatsby” to emulate, it would be – not a person – but a thing. And that’s where tea comes in. Yes, this does (somehow) come back to tea.

Several months ago, I read an article about barrel-aged teas. Smith Teamaker’s Méthode Noir was front and center, but another company was also mentioned – Rare Tea Cellar. I’d never heard of this outfit before, but they had an entire product line devoted to barrel-aged teas. Including one I never thought I’d ever see mention of, a whiskey barrel-aged Lapsang Souchong. I’d mused on how wonderful that combination would be. Pine smoke and peat moss just seemed like a match made in heaven.

Rare Tea Cellar’s Barrel Aged Forbidden Forest Lapsang Souchong was aged for six-to-nine months in a Willet rye barrel. I’d had many a fancy-schmancy whiskey, but I’d yet to try rye whiskey. Funny, considering how many rye whiskey barrel-aged beers I’d consumed. The problem was the price tag. A quarter pound was $40. Not the worst I’d seen for a rare type of tea…but well out of my budget.

That’s when I decided to play the tea blogger card. I don’t always feel comfortable doing so, but time and tea wait for no writer. I contacted RTC expressing an interest in doing a feature on the Forbidden Forest, weaving it into one of my usual quixotic narratives. They happily obliged the request. I received samples a few days later.

When I received it, the first thing I wanted to do was smell the bag. It’d been a long time since I beheld the hickory and campfire scent of Lapsang Souchong. I was like an addict in a fit of withdrawal. It was a very Carraway-esque reaction. I tore it open and whiffed smoke…and something else. The smoky aspect was there, but nowhere near as pronounced. Another aroma rounded out the olfactory sensation – peat moss mixed with…bread? The medium-cut, brown leaves had given me a mystery. A wondrous one.

The first time I brewed it up, I did 2 tsps. in a 16oz. glass of boiled water for three minutes – my usual start for any black tea. That…actually proved to be a little too light. While it had somewhat of a desired effect, it was lacking something. The second time around – a few weeks later, a mere day before seeing Gatsby – I went for a full five minutes. Let’s just say…

It brewed up brown-‘n-copper with a smoky/woody lean on the scent. As for taste, holy hell! It was all gentle Lapsang burn on the front, peat and smoke on the top note, and rye on the slide toward the finish. That and there seemed to be an oddly sweet underpinning throughout – maple-ish, even. This was the perfect sophisticated man tea.

I was Carraway, and this tea was my Gatsby. Grandiose, sophisticated, and full o’ smoke. Unlike Gatsby, this was truth in a cup. And my poor-arse self was consuming it like a gentleman. Also, like Carraway, my first instinct was to write about it. I may be poor, humbled often, and lacking ambition…but that doesn’t mean my cup isn’t worth a thousand words.

(No, seriously, I just past the thousand word mark. Awesome.)

To buy Rare Tea Cellar’s Barrel Aged Forbidden Forest, go HERE.

The post Carried Away by Whiskey Tea appeared first on Steep Stories.

Golden Fleece Feast Fest

Nearly a month ago, I lamented via the social mediasphere – like I always do – about everyone’s acquisition of Verdant Tea’s Golden Fleece. I remember everyone extolling its virtues from on high. Envy set in like a car crash. I love Yunnan blacks; I love Yunnan golds more. Unfortunately, it was never in my budget to acquire some – either back then or now.

Ever the tealanthropist, Rachel Carter of IHeartTeas offered to send me a sample of this year’s batch. A couple of others were also including in the gifting. Not sure if I was the first to suggest it, or if someone else whispered in my ear, but the idea to do a “tandem blog” gained favor. I.e. Everyone trying the tea at the same time – discussing it over a chat medium first – then simultaneously posting blogs about their experiences.

Naturally, I agreed to it (or patted myself on the back for the idea, whichever), forgetting one simple thing. I suck at keeping to a deadline, unless I’m being paid for it. Tandem blogging was probably the most antithetical idea I could’ve agreed to or suggested. It didn’t help that I was in the midst of some home-related SNAFUs at the time.

Google+’s Hangout feature was our chosen get-together medium. Participants included: The aforementioned Fleece-gifter, Rachel, Nicole Martin of Tea For Me Please, Jo Johnson of A Gift of Tea, Jackie D (aka. Mrs. Tea Trade), and Darlene Meyers-Perry of The Tea Lover’s Archive. I was the only guy there…and it showed. A joke by me involving the “b-word” in reference to my cat was met with shocked gasps. Sometimes, I should adjust my social filter to “Female”.

That said, it was an extremely animated evening gathering. I was duly caffeinated by the end of it, and equally energized by all the tea talk. As you can tell by the glibness of this post so far, I don’t get to do that very often. Tea gatherings, for me, are like a nerd-geyser going off.

Oh yeah! The tea itself…

The leaves looked like a Yunnan Jin Cha (or “Gold Bud”) through and through. What was different about these buds, though, were the furs. Yes, these leaf buds still had downy furs present – like a good Yinzhen does. I’ve had many a Yunnan gold, but this was the gold..-iest. (I know, not a word.) Taste-wise, it was smooth, silky, honey-like, and a tad malty on the finish. It lacked some of the peppery lean others of its ilk possess, but that was hardly missed. It was, in a word, perfect. As was the gathering.

Thanks again, Rachel, for the sample and conversation. I’ll do better on the tandeming next time. Er, maybe.

To read Nicole’s take, go HERE.

To read Jo’s take, go HERE.

To read Rachel’s take, go HERE.

To purchase Verdant Tea’s Golden Fleece, go HERE.

A Taste of Eugene

Remember a year or so ago how I wrote about trying a gin barrel-aged oolong beer? You don’t? Well, go HERE, then get back to me. Done? Good. Well, what if I told you that beer had a f**king sequel?!

I found out (again) from Josh Chamberlain of J-TEA that Oakshire Brewing came out with yet another rendition of the Frederic’s Lost Arm. This new one was from the same batch, but instead of a gin barrel, the Oakshire boys aged it for two years in a Pinot Noir barrel – thus dubbing it Frederic C. Noir. Unfortunately, none of the rare bottles were going to make it to Portland.

After a week of himming-and-hawing, I asked the kind folks at 16 Tons if they still had any left available. They said, “Yes.” A split second later I said, “Hold one for me, I’m coming down.” Keep in mind, this shop was in Eugene…which is a two-hour drive from Portland. I decided to devote one of my day’s off to the road trip.

I haven’t tried the beer yet, so that’ll be a subject for another post. What I will share here is my major (and enlightening pit stop) before picking it up. I decided to pre-funk at the very tea shop that provided the oolong for said beer in the first place. I had heard great things about J-TEA, and I’d associated with the owner via Twitter on a few occasions. My first aged oolong ever was acquired there – an aged Dong Fei Mei Ren (Oriental Beauty/Bai Hao) oolong. Loved that stuff.

Never heard of the place? Well, it’s the shop in Oregon for the aged oolong crowd. Josh’s selection is probably the most extensive I’ve come across. My main reason for going – other than picking at Josh’s brain – was to sample some 20-year-aged Baozhongs.

Josh was kind of to preside over a taste comparison between a 1984 and 1989 Baozhong offering. Both were exquisitely herbaceous and strangely calming. I’m sure that “calm wakefulness” crap that tea folks talk about stems from trying aged oolongs. I didn’t feel too wired, just…aware. Of the two, the ’84 was a clear favorite; there was something deeper at play in that cup. Not sure how to properly explain it, something just clicked with me.

The second treat he dished out was one I had inquired about several months prior. For a Black Friday event, Josh had processed some leaves he picked from Minto Island Growers into a black tea. For those not familiar with MIG, they’re an outfit with a section of garden devoted to tea varietals in Oregon. Yes, you heard right. Tea plants in Oregon! And lucky for me, there was still some of J-TEA’s black experiment left.

What can I say, it was darn near perfect, and note-for-note like a Taiwanese Ruby 18. The cuppa was chewy and chocolaty with an odd floral sensation in the top note. I instantly wanted more. Since there wasn’t a lot to go around, J let me keep the leaves to re-steep. Which I did. Four times. Those suckers were resilient.

I made a purchase of some ’09 Li Shan black, and settled my bill for the tea tasters o’ awesomeness. Before I left for the beer leg of my journey, we went on a dialogue tangent about barrel-aged teas. Right as I was about to leave, Josh mentioned in passing, “I acquired a bourbon barrel from Kentucky.”

Damn it. The man knows my weakness.

To check out J-TEA’s selection of aged oolongs, go HERE.

For their selection of black teas, go HERE.

It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

The first weekend of every month starts with an event in our neighborhood simply known as “Beer Night”. I know, clever. Each month has a theme. Some notable ones from the past months were “Weird Beers”, “Foreign Beers”, “Wheat Beers”, and so on. This month, it was “Beer Cocktails”…and I had no idea what I was going to contribute. Initially, I was going to offer up my tea-beer experiment, but the weather was too hot to justify it. As a result, I decided to skip out on it.

Both my neighbor Tim and my brother talked me out of it, and – truthfully – it didn’t take a lot of arm-twisting. It’s beer. Good beer. And good people. I would eventually give in.

Neighbor Tim and his wife, Katie, had just returned from Ethiopia to meet twins they were adopting. Before they left, I texted Tim as an afterthought, “If you can, pick up some Ethiopian-grown tea!” I knew the stuff existed after a conversation with Cinnabar Gong Fu of Phoenix Tea from a couple of years back. While not officially on the “Tea WANT!” list, it was a contender.

Well, when I got to the barbeque with my brother, Tim’s wife came up to me and said they had picked up nearly a kilo of Ethiopian tea. I was shocked by the amount she signified…until she told me how cheap it was. At the end of the gathering, Tim gifted me with 100 grams of it.

And I tried it the next morning.

It’s not a complex tea by any stretch. If anything, because of the thin (practically fannings) cut of the leaves, the liquor had a lot in common with cheap Rize-grown Turkish black tea or like products from Guatemala or Bolivia. However, it wasn’t as astringent as the South American stuff, or as sweet as the Turkish, but very reminiscent of Australian Daintree.

The best part? It iced well. My god, did it ice well.

What? I’m an American. We do that here.

In closing, I suppose I can sum up that the best and simplest things in life fall back to good tea and good people. Well, for those of us that like tea. And people. Jury’s still out on the “people” part, but so far, I’ve had pretty good luck.

The post Golden Fleece Feast Fest, A Taste of Eugene, and Tea from Neighbors appeared first on Steep Stories.

Another astonishing surprise, I’m also a creature of habit. I don’t do “change” very well. Rituals – especially during this emotionally trying time – are very important to me. Routines keep me centered, distracted, and even-keel. When there are disruptions to my paradigm, shite hits the fan. Hard.

In the span of a week, my brother/roommate/landlord announced he was getting engaged. All of us were happy for him; myself included. A week after that, he gave us a date. August. Which meant…

I needed to find a new place to live within that period of time.

One would think that four months was plenty of time to find a new living situation, and they’d be right. Normally. Problem was, I had other things I was planning on for the Summer that required money – chiefly, World Tea Expo. With the cost of down-payments, pet deposits, and first-‘n-last-month rent, there was no room for a trip to Vegas.

I sadly took to my usual social media outlets and lamented the news. Moments later, my mother gave me a stern, “You’re going, and that’s final!” And offered to cover the plane ticket as an early “birthristmas” present. A fellow tea pal also offered to host my tea trunk/manchild arse for the duration of the expo.

And this hasn’t been the first hiccup to my plans. It almost seems like whenever I make plans in the Spring, something (or someone) comes in to throw a wrench in them – which further puts a snare on my already-strained mental faculties and emotional fortitude. And that is why having set routines keeps me – for the most part – as balanced as is humanly possible. The most important? That first cup of tea in the morning.

Credit to BlueDragoFire900

Over a year ago, I relied on matcha (powdered green tea) as my morning kickstarter. With the right equipment, it was easy to prepare and took very little time to brew. A minute to heat the water, a few seconds to scoop the powder, forty-five seconds to whisk, and done – bubbly goodness-to-go. They don’t call it “ceremonial” matcha for nothin’. It’s a ritual in and of itself, and anyone can do it anyway they damn well please.

Most would say you’re not doing it right unless it’s done in a traditional “chanoyu” ceremony, but that’s too much work for 6AM. (That and I’d probably look lousy in a kimono.) So, I opt for a more…uh…”ch’annoying” approach. The aforementioned prep above, the use of a bamboo whisk, and a miso soup bowl to pour it into. My leaf-to-water ratio is probably also a bit more skewed than is traditionally acceptable. A typical koicha (or “thick tea”) prep requires 3 heaping teaspoons of powder, and roughly 3oz. of 150F-heated water. I use the same amount of powder…but twice the amount of water. A more usucha (“thin tea”) approach but double the fun.

Due to financial constrains – and a barely-above-minimum-wage day job – the affordability of matcha is usually beyond my grasp. At an average of $30 a tin for the good stuff, it just isn’t feasible. Usually.

However, that’s where upstart startups like Pure Matcha come into play. I’ve had a working (or rather, reviewing) relationship with this vendor before. Theirs was the first rooibos matcha I ever tried, and their Black Matcha was also a “uniquitea” notch-off. When I received word of their new organic ceremonial matcha, I jumped at the chance.

The word “organic” usually doesn’t matter a damn to me. My main concern runs along the lines of, “Does it taste good?” It had some big shoes to fill with Pure Matcha’s regular ceremonial grade as competition. That offering convinced me that Nishio-produced matcha could give the Uji a run for its money. In a word, perfect.

The powder for Pure Matcha’ s Organic Ceremonial Grade wasn’t as bright a green color as the regular, but the aroma was just as spritely and sweet as before. I could whiff a matcha canister all danged day. It smelled like Spring. Well, minus the depressive suck.

I’ll admit it, I delayed doing a write-up on this because I spent the next couple of weeks simply…well…having it every single morning. Did I mention I was a creature of habit? Let’s add delay-artist to that. That has a nice ring to it, “Delay Artist of Habit”. Okay, no it doesn’t.

Where was I? Oh yes…mornings.

A little known fact about matcha, it may be “technically” green tea, but it packs quite a caffeinated wallop. That’s what you get when you grind a leaf – with more caffeine per surface area than a coffee bean – to a fine powder. The more you use, the more you feel. Nothing like a bit of green cocaine to get ya started, eh?

(Seriously, though, don’t snort this.)

On to the taste. Matcha has a kind of grainy texture to the mouthfeel that some might find off-putting. Many would compare it to soup. I love it. If whisked properly, the effect is downright velvetine on the tongue. The more bubbles that froth up, the better the sensation. It’s like a morning mouth-massage. No, not the “happy ending” kind. (And…ew.) Top that off with a taste of natural sweetness, a slight vegetal kick, a dash of Zen, and it’s like a mini-milkshake for the soul.

This stuff had all of the usual taste trappings in spades. It frothed up amazingly, and that translated ot the taste and texture perfectly. It was a little rougher on the palate than the regular ceremonial grade, but it was also gentler. In short, another shade of perfect. While it had the usual matcha price tag attached, it was well worth every penny.

You can’t put a price on ritual happiness.

The post A Morning Matcha Routine appeared first on Steep Stories.

My first “exposure” to the legend – or at least, the one that I remember – was from Disney’s Matterhorn ride. Along the rollercoaster’s path, you encounter a rather lifelike animatronic yeti on one of the many twisty turns. To a five-year-old, it was piss-your-pants scary. Beyond that moment, I never paid the mythical man-bear-ape-thing much heed.

Until I saw an oolong named after it; an oolong from a country I didn’t know did oolongs.

I’ve had plenty of teas from Nepal.  Not sure what region they came from, since I suck at geography, but I can run off the names of tea estates forever. Many of them had he word “Ilam” in their names. Still not sure what that means; too lazy to google it. What I didn’t know was that there was an actual region in Nepal called Ilam.

Nepali Tea Traders is a company based in Colorado founded by Maggie Le Beau. They are the first (as far as I know) company specializing in sourcing teas directly from private farmers in Nepal. I know plenty of vendors that source from tea estates, but not from actual farmers. The company first came to my attention when I saw mention of a Nepalese pu-erh. That sent me a-buzzing, and while perusing their site, I ran across their oolong selections. One had the word “Yeti” in it. By manly mandate, I had to try it.

The leaves were black and gold with a curly, hand-rolled appearance – similar to a Darjeeling or Assamese oolong. It differed from these in scent, however, bestowing a toasty and slightly fruity aroma to the nose. Tearing myself away from the bag was a chore; I could’ve whiffed it all day.

Typically with any type of oolong, I like to try it both Western-style and gongfu-style to see what the differences are. But a tea with a name like “Wild Yeti”, there was only one way to go : Go big or go home. I brewed this in a pint-sized filter mug for the full three minutes using boiled water. Screw nuance, I wanted to see what kind of punch it delivered.

The liquor brewed up as ruby dark as any black tea I’ve ever had. The aroma from the steam was like…plumbs dipped in cocao batter by way of…lava? Unusual but enjoyable. Flavor-wise, I was in for a surprise. This actually tasted like a full-on mid-roasted oolong from Taiwan, very much like an autumn Dong Ding without the graphite lean.

Most Himalayan oolongs maintain a bit of their muscatel nature, regardless of the oxidization. While this was still very pekoe-ish, it gave me more of an oolong impression than those of similar processing from Darjeeling. That and there was a very smooth, wine-like finish. I like wine; and I like…uh…finishes? Wait, that came out wrong.

Point being!…I love me some knew tea-ish experiences, especially good ones. This was mostly definitely a good one, and one that I’m hopped up on while writing this. Wow, this has a caffeinated kick. I could really wrestle a yeti now. And lose horribly.

© Kate McCurrach

For more information – or to buy – this beast, go HERE.

Sidenote: Nepali Tea Traders has launched a Kickstarter campaign to help further their business model. Their goal is to expand their merchandise selection by buying some of the Ilam region’s first flush 2013 teas directly. This is a Kickstarter campaign I have NO problem throwing my hat in for. As per their business model, because they’re purchasing these teas from the private growers directly, more money goes to them and their families.

The post Wrestling a Wild Yeti appeared first on Steep Stories.

As mentioned in my priory entry, I’m currently neck-deep in The Dresden Files. I’m on book…oh…eight? Cliff’s notes version: It’s about a wizard – Harry Dresden – who acts as a private eye in Chicago, and epic events happen around the man. It’s urban fantasy for the post-Harry Potter set. And damn awesome at that.

The fourteen-(and counting)-book series also inspired a short-lived TV series. It was nowhere near as epic as the book series. Events and characters were changed to cater to a scaled-down TV show budget. And, hoo-boy, was it ever scaled down. There was one key difference between the books and show that I found interesting – a character trait that the show had over the written word.

In the books, Dresden was a coffee drinker; in the TV series, a tea drinker.

There were a couple of episodes that focused rather heavily on the magical properties of plants, and they played an integral part of a potion in one episode. On a couple of occasions, he was also seen drinking from a Japanese cast-iron tea cup. No one drinks coffee out of cast-iron. Er, not that I know of.

This made me wonder – in a not-so-serious fashion – if there was something to this “tea-is-magic” stuff. I consider myself a bit of an amateur expert on the subject of tea and magic, but I hadn’t done an anecdotal (read: nonfictional) “study” on the subject. So, I decided to reflect on the last month or so using one common factor for this little meta-tea study: My last three encounters with Smith Teamaker teas.

What? It’s not a scientific theory unless it’s been proven three times, right? At least, I think that’s how it goes. Oh, right…on to the magic.

Fraud and First Flush

When I received the phone call, I was under a bed. At work.

I won’t say what I do for work, or why I was under a bed, but I will say that it was an inopportune time to be answering the phone. The call was from a third-party fraud department that worked in tandem with my credit union.

The woman on the other end asked, “Did you make any purchases in Georgia or North Carolina?”

I said, “Um…no.”

“You’re still in Oregon, then?” she continued.

“Yes,” I answered. Slightly more annoyed.

“Well, your debit card was used in the following locations,” and then she went on to explain that said debit card was now frozen as a result. I had no access to funds until my credit union branch opened on Monday.

In the interim, whoever the mysterious fraud culprit was continued to rack up charges on my debit card, thus negating the claim that my account had been frozen. By Sunday of that weekend, I was penniless. That and a credit card payment that I’d made in advance was going to bounce.

Come Monday morning, I had a rather heated exchange with a bank rep about the situation. At first, she was un-empathetic to my penniless plight, but seeing me on the verge of a breakdown softened her Sikh heart. I filed the necessary incident report, noted the fraudulent charges, and signed on the dotted line. She agreed to contact me once everything was resolved, but warned it might take a day or two.

As catharsis, I journeyed to Northwest Portland to have a relieving pot of first flush Darjeeling from the Chamong estate at Smith Teamaker HQ. Claire – the tea bartender on duty – patiently listened to me rant about my banking woes. While I slowly sipped away at my two-person pot, I received a phone call from the bank rep. Everything was wrapped up in a tight little bow. All fraudulent charges were removed, and any overdraft fees were refunded.

I called my credit card company to make sure that the payment from my credit union went through without a hitch. They confirmed there were no issues. I stared at my phone – shocked.

All crises were averted…in the time it took me to down a pot of tea. Coincidence?

Sakura and Sun Tea

I’ve already talked about how my brother introduced me to “sun tea” a couple of years ago. On further attempts, we used Smith Teamaker’s Exceptional Iced Tea blend to make more. I still had four huge-arse sachets of the stuff left, and we decided to give it another run on the first warm day of Spring. My brother put it by the cherry blossom tree in our backyard.

Three hours later, it was ready. We went through half the jar in only two days. On one of those days, I downed at least two pints – right before I was to attend my usually Monday board game night at a friend’s house. The usual default for us is a game called Settlers of Catan.

Simply put, it’s The Game of Life meets Olde World economy. Wicked fun…and I suck at it. I, maybe, win one game in twenty. By the skin of my sheep. This time around, my avenues of settlement expansion were cut in half, leaving very little potential for growth or gameplay. That’s what I thought at first.

Not only were the dice on my side, but by some stone-‘n-mortar miracle, I made a massive comeback. By the end of it, I earned the ten points needed to win the game naturally with no development cards or added sundries. I left that game night practically glowing and in tears. A board game victory should never be that poignant and powerful.

Yes, I blame the sun tea. That’s all I had to drink the entire day.

A Darjeeling Tea Tasting

While at work (yes, again with the work moments), I received an e-mail from Alex – Smith Teamaker’s tech-‘n-sales guru – about an upcoming Darjeeling tasting thingy. The next day. New 2013 first flushes had come in. The problem with my job, though, was that I had no clue what time I’d be done. I was a supervisor of a staff of six or seven, and our departure time was contingent upon their speed.

In anticipation, I called my boss’s boss to see if I could cut out early for the tasting. He said, “Yes.” And I kowtowed in extreme appreciation. Luckily, the need for his permission wasn’t necessary. The day of the tasting, I ended up getting out an hour early!  Truly, magic at work.

The tasting itself was hosted by both Alex and Blender Tony. The latter of whom described the importance and minutiae of Darjeeling teas from a vendor perspective in great detail. We tasted roughly ten teas from seven different estates. My favorites were from the Phoobsering estate – known for their kick-arse oolongs.

As an added bonus, I got to take those home with me.

The remainder of my week was spent finishing the last few chapters of Dead Beat – arguably the best book in the Dresden series. I can see the pro arguments. I mean, Dresden rides a zombie T-rex into battle – how cool is that?!

What I found particularly odd, though, was that there was a heckuva lot more tea drinking in this book than in the prior installments. Very little mention of coffee. I’m not sure if the books took a page out of the TV series, but I smile a bit at the coincidence.

Bah, I think I’ve proven I don’t believe in coincidences.

As I sip my second pot of Darjeeling while writing this.

The post Tea is Magic to a Darjeeling-Drenched Dresden Phile appeared first on Steep Stories.

Not sure how it slipped through my tea-and-apple-cider-vinegar defenses…but it did. Now, my brain is stuck on stupid, and you fine folks have to put up with whatever the heck I’m typing. Without further ado (or adieu) – with a pot of Greek Mountain at the ready – I shall write something…of some sort. For some time. Bwaha.

Sunday was when the plague finally hit full force. I did the unthinkable and called in sick to work. After that, I rousted at the ungodly hour of…1PM. Somehow, the notion entered my phlegm-fogged brain to participate in this week’s Tea Salon (via Google Hangout) on Bi Luo Chun. Normally, I borrowed my brother’s computer for those “outings”, but he and his girlfriend were occupied with it. My Droid was out of the question because Hangouts came in choppy.

Sidenote: Seriously, Google? Why the f**k doesn’t Google Hangout work on a f**king Google phone?! That makes no bloody sense.

Anyway…

I decided to do some technical troubleshooting. Something I should never do; I’m a techtard – relying on the kindness of nerd peers to keep me connected. The task in question was finding an app for my phone that would essentially turn it into a webcam. On the Google Play store, there were several free ones to choose from. Naturally, I went with the highest rated one – IP Webcam.

To sum up how this process works: Basically, a webcam app takes your phone’s camera hardware and (in theory) syncs it with your computer – either by USB, WiFi, LAN, or…magic. I dunno. Once installing the app on your phone, you need to install a matching driver on your computer, then link the two. Again…by magic, I think.

While IP Webcam worked on my phone just fine, the matching desktop driver was shite. Not to mention extremely complicated. You had to visit, like, three or four different sites and FAQs, know your IP address, and other miscellany to link the two. In the end, my phone and computer decided not to tango. App deleted.

At this point, Tea Salon had already begun. I went with the second recommended app on the Play store, one called “DroidCam”. It sounded easy enough that even a techtard monkey like me could use it. Again, in theory. Like magic. The app installed cleanly, as did the computer driver. They synced perfectly, and then I entered the Hangout.

With no sound. For the duration of the webcam chat, I was pantomiming any emphatic point I had to make. Some remarked that it was kind of an improvement.

That and the damn thing kept freezing when my phone’s screen shut off. I finagled with it for the better part of the hour-long Hangout session. Various comments from the attendees heckled my attempts, commenting that I had somehow turned into “a thumb” on several occasions. They were mostly right.

It wasn’t until the end of the Hangout when I gave the proverbial battlecry of “F**K IT!”, and just entered the chat session with my phone. And wouldn’t you know it…it worked perfectly. Just as the Tea Salon was ending. I managed a very witty – and very nasally – “Hi” and “G’bye”.

Afterwards, Robert “The Devotea” Godden humored me as I tried to get a third webcam app working – one called SmartCam. It…wasn’t so smart. Either that, or I wasn’t. Whatever…

I muttered something along the lines of, “I need a laptop.”

He said, “A webcam is much cheaper than a laptop.”

I replied with, “Yeah, but that would get in the way of purchasing some rare Nepali teas.”

He countered with, “For the price of some rare Nepali teas, you could be sharing your opinion on rare Nepali teas via webcam.”

Point.

In the end, I gave up, went back to my pot of white tea/Greek Mountain blend, and continued to read more The Dresden Files books.

Because that what sick tea snobs do.

The post Webcam Woes appeared first on Steep Stories.

It’s usually my day off from the perpetual work grind, and – by some de facto decision – my DRINK TEA ALL DAY!…uh…day. By happenstance, it is also the day when Michael “Tea Geek” Coffey hosts his weekly Google+ Hangout dubbed “Tea Salon”. The hour-long online discussion is often the highlight of my week – the one time I can geek out on all things tea (and un-tea-related) with like-minded cuppa-folks. This Sunday in particular, we discussed Yunnan Dian Hong (black tea), and – as per usual – the conversation sidetracked often.

I mean, there’s only so much one can say about Yunnan black tea. It’s black tea. It’s from Yunnan. Next topic. But the counter-discussions toward the end were what fascinated me the most. The subject segued to supply-and-demand, and a tea vendor’s adaptability to the market. We all lamented and commented on the state of tea consumption in the United States. Consensus? There seems to be a growing emphasis on flavored tea concoctions rather than orthodox teas (i.e. single-source, unfettered offerings from specific regions/varietals).

The subject came up because there was an event – if it can be called that – known as the “Pu-erh Bubble” that occurred in the first decade of the 21^st century. For a shining moment, people took a zealous interest in aged teas from Yunnan, and the regions they stemmed from. That splintered into interests in other orthodox teas as well, particularly oolongs from Taiwan and other parts of China.

Said pu-erh bubble, however, burst somehow in 2008, which I find ironic. Why? Because that was the time when I became a tea reviewer and started taking an interest in orthodox teas. One of the first companies I ever reviewed sourced the first Himalayan-grown black I ever had. They were also the company that introduced me to one of my favorite herbal infusions – Greek Mountain. As the years went by, though, their direction and philosophy changed. Slowly but surely, they placed more emphasis on their flavored blends.

Let me iterate that I’m not against blends. Some of the best teas I’ve tried have been blends – some even flavored ones. I need not look any further than The Devotea’s Lord Petersham or Joy’s Teaspoon Lemon Zest (a rooibos monstrosity of awesomeness) as key examples. What I was irked by was the primary focus being placed on these. Orthodoxy was slowly taking a backseat with a lot of vendors.

I won’t name names, but one of my favorite local haunts in N.E. Portland – one I visited frequently – scaled down their oolong and pu-erh lines in favor of flavored blends. While I liked a majority of them, I was sorry to see some of those oolongs go the way of the dodo bird. Again, I reiterate, I love their blends, and I still visit for their awesome Earl Grey, but I loved their orthodox stuff more.

During the Tea Salon discussion, though, the ever-reliable (and folliclely blessed) Jo Johnson brought up an interesting point. I shall paraphrase what she said slightly, “So what if the U.S. market aims toward flavored teas?! That means more for us!”

And she nailed it.

We orthodox tea drinkers are a niche market; we are not what the average tea vendor aims for when seeking profit. However, there are those that do source their teas from single estates and specific regions. They’ve tailored their business plans to meet that need. Leaving the normal, flavored tea drinker to their generalist sellers.

To them, I say, “Have at it.”

The niche market isn’t going away, it’s just becoming more secular. We don’t want everyone drinking up all of our orthodox stores. That would cause a price hike, and I – for one – can’t afford a damn scaled-up Golden Needle or single estate Darjeeling. The less of a market there is for those, the more there is for me…and for a whole lot less.

So, to the undiscerning tea drinkers out there…drink up. Keeping consuming your Maple Cheesecake Derpdeederp. I salute you. Because of you, there will be more Sikkim Temi for me. My cup clanks (and gives thanks) to thee.

The post Flavored of the Week appeared first on Steep Stories.

If you’re no stranger to this blog, then you’ve read my references to them in prior entries. My brother is my landlord/roommate. The dog? Well…he’s just there – acting all cute and hyper. To my sibling’s credit, he is a casual tea drinker. I say “casual” because he doesn’t worry about things like seasonal flushes, nebulous leaf grades, or what mountain his oolongs come from. I, on the other hand, do take those factors into consideration. What I’m about to confess, though, is that my brother has oftentimes influenced my tea drinking routine.

I sort of hinted at this in a prior entry about chamomile. Through him, I used to have an affinity for the relaxing flower. However, my palate has changed since then, and now chamomile – to me – tastes like…well…floral-flavored ass medicine. No, I can’t think of a better comparison.

But back to the subject at hand.

Roughly three years ago, my brother embarked on a bit of an experiment utilizing a jar, some teabags, and simple sunlight. Before him, I hadn’t even heard of “Sun Tea”, nor that it was a southern staple. All that was required was a three-hour wait, then presto. The results were eye-openingly delicious. Crude but credible.

A couple of years later, we tried it out with a couple of loose-leaf sachets of Smith Teamaker’s Exceptional Iced Tea blend. The results were “like” iced tea but slightly different. A good different, I assure you. When Summer comes around again, we’ll probably do the same thing. And to those that warn against bacterial growth. Well…we Normans are rebels.

On a simple day back in…uh…I think it was November, my brother up and decided that he was not going to fall ill anymore. His magic solution to this “ailment” was an old wives tale – apple cider vinegar, 1 tsp. a day. Normally, he added it to his tea. I thought the idea of that sounded disgusting.

Then I heard about the nationwide flu outbreak.

At my new job, I hadn’t earned health insurance yet. Nor did I have the money to get vaccinated. While I knew green tea helped to curb colds and influenza, it wasn’t a sure-fire answer. So, in the early morning before work, I would brew a pot of something dark, and the third cup was always doused with a dash of apple cider vinegar. And guess what? I liked it. The stuff went really well with an over-brewed black tea. Somehow, the tannins and the vinegar made magic – not sure.

Brother-made naan on the left.

February is almost over, and I still haven’t been sick. So…I guess there’s something to the stuff. Score two to the bro.

Some weeks back, brother dearest and his girlfriend tried another experiment. This time, it was an attempt to boil a tisane of fresh ginger by the pot. I – at my tea-snobbiest – said snootily, “The best results come from using dried ginger.”

They politely entertained my pontification, but humbly disagreed, and went on with their experiment. That gave me a moment of pause, and I turned to the FaceTwitPlus-o-sphere to garner second opinions from the rest of the tea community. The results were mixed. Some said better ginger flavor was yielded from brewing the dried stuff, others were proponents of fresh. On a second go-around, my bro and his lady-love tried it with smaller cut pieces of ginger.

It was at this point I gave in and tried some. Small confession: I’m not a fan of ginger. At all. I went through a phase of drinking it every day but ended up with a wicked case of heartburn. That turned me off to most tisanes with the stuff. Same with peppermint. I could only stand blends with those ingredients if they were used sparingly.

My brother’s fresh ginger experiment was a game-changer. Sure, it tasted like ginger, but the flavor was more citrus-heavy than spice-laden. That and the fresh stuff was oddly cooling. Strange, considering ginger is normally a “heating” herb. The overall sensation was gentle, like a warm, relaxing electric blanket in liquid form.

Brotherhood Achievement: Unlocked.

My tea-snobbery was curb-stomped. I don’t know when I’ll ever learn to keep my preconceived notions at bay, but I suppose that’s what siblings are for. To bring you back down to Earth when you become to big for your beverage-y britches. Oh well…I did introduce him to Greek Mountain “tea” and Golden Yunnan…so I guess that means we’re even.

Oh wait, that’s three-to-two.

Damn.

© Jason Norman

The post Ginger Has Soul appeared first on Steep Stories.

This was the last of my frivolous tea purchases for a while. The reason? I was in hunker-down mode for financial reasons. Before that declaration, I had made one last buy of some rare and unique offerings from a tea bar in Vancouver, B.C. called O5 Tea. There was no way I was missing out on a wine-casked Nepalese black from an estate I’d never heard of.

When this (and a few others) finally arrived, it was my intent to wait until a special occasion to cup it. Either that, or as a reward for a job well done on…something. Well, I didn’t hold out that long. A mere week after, I tore into it. And, boy, was I glad I did.

Justifying the cupping reward as payment for a hard work week endured, I brewed a pint of this sucker. It was nice to see other tea vendors answering my indirect call for more alcohol barrel-aged teas. So far, only Smith Teamaker had done it to any degree. Others had merely added alcohol flavoring. That was no fun. The joy was in the scenting of teas.

This wine-casked Ghorka estate autumn flush wasn’t as strong on the winy note as I was expecting, but part of that could’ve been due to the tea base used. A lot of Himalayan teas are naturally muscatel-ish to the palate. So, any wine-grapiness might be dulled by the flavor the leaves already impart. That said, I did pick up a bit of Cabernet Franc on the aftertaste. A second steep confirmed my suspicions.

While I was in the middle of my second pint, I decided to give my Dad a call. I hadn’t spoken to him for well over two months. Neglectful in my sonly duties, I decided to rectify that. Amidst the conversation, I casually mentioned I had won an iPad from my work.

He said, “Y’know, you should give that to your dear ol’ Dad.”

“Fat chance,” I replied.

“Okay, I’ll buy it off of you.”

That triggered something.

I hadn’t even opened the iPad since I got it over a week ago. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it. The only use I had for it would’ve been as a word processor, but that would’ve required the additional purchase of a keyboard and stand.

Coupled with that was the fact that I was trying to save money for a trip to Vegas in June for World Tea Expo. I had no idea how I was going to pull that off, given the fact that I lived from paycheck to paycheck. My Dad’s offer changed all that. There was my ticket to Vegas.

So…

The wine-casked tea wasn’t the reward for a job well done, but it was the prologue to something wonderful. The Tea Fates are smiling on me. And I’m returning the gesture with cup (and eyebrow) raised.

The post High-Fives to O5 and a World Tea Expo Update appeared first on Steep Stories.

Dude. Harsh.

I messaged the person that’d invited me to it but never got a reply. Several theories swarmed through my head. There was a case for me not being an active enough participant, but I’d only been a part of it for a month. Surely, there was a leeway period. Guess not. Perhaps I didn’t post frequently enough, or contribute comments to other blogs? There was a strong case for that, too. Eventually, I did the only tactful thing I knew at the time.

I took to Twitter.

That didn’t even get their attention. Morose, I continued on with my week – brewing tea by the pint and going to work. The most notable of them was a particular Darjeeling that handled abuse and neglect quite well. Most mornings, I don’t have the time (or lucidity) to pay attention to exact measurements or steep times. I put the kettle on, boil water, put leaves in, and let it steep. Forever. Usually until after I’m out of the shower.

This particular morning’s Darjeeling was a low-altitude sort – one from the Rohini estate. The tea in question was a sample of their first flush clonal, generously donated by Happy Earth Tea. Rohini was one of the first Darjeelings that had a first flush out in 2012. They kicked the Darjeeling season off in February.

Someone informed me that, while lowland Darjeeling estates often yield crops earlier than highland ones, their quality is often sub-par. When I brewed the Rohini up normally, however, I didn’t find anything wrong with it. In fact, it was on par with some of the best I had that year. I even reflected upon it in story form.

How did it handle one of my post-shower, ten-minute, forever-steeps-o’-neglect? Perfectly. In fact, if anything, its character was even more pronounced. I’ve treated scores of Darjeelings to forever steeps, and none held up well. They often spinached, bittered or grew vegetal after minute six. Whether it was the heartier leaves, the lower altitude or unicorn magic, Rohini was a MANLY estate.

For weeks, I’d wanted to reflect on this phenomenon, but I didn’t have a proper platform in which to do so. I wanted to compare it to something, and draw the point back to the earlier blog group ousting. What I didn’t have was a proper bridge. Every blog needs a damn bridge – burned or otherwise. One was finally provided…by my cat.

My Maine Coon mix rousted me from bed at the unholy hour of 4AM. I snatched her up by the “mommy”-scruff and rasped a sharp, “NO!” Then I tried to collapse back into the warm bosom of my ‘lectric blanky. It was too late. Thoughts swam in my skull. Finally, I gave up with a, F**k it, I guess I’ll write.

And there was my bridge.

Like a good lowland Darjeeling, even a lowbrow lad like me can exceed expectations when pushed. True potential can be squeezed at the oddest of times. Even friggin’ 4AM. I am a forever-steeped tea, sweating potential like a steaming kettle, and if other blog networks don’t see it…well…I raise my cup to ‘em…

And a middle finger.

UPDATE: So, it would appear that the culprit behind my blogger group ousting was none other than…

*Drum roll*

Friggin’ Facebook.

Technical difficulties with the platform caused the kerfuffle. The group had nothing to do with it. FB me was the one that threw me out.

Damn you, Zuckerberg!!!

*Shakes tiny teacupped fist*

The post Lowbrow, Low Expectations and Lowland Darjeeling appeared first on Steep Stories.